Falling
by TiaKisu
Summary: "Paul is falling, he cannot fight it any longer. But he isn't scared. Not anymore." - Introspection for the sickbay scene in Such Sweet Sorrow Pt.2


_**A/N: **I actually don't know what to say other than I just _had _to write this. These two are just too sweet together, and after Marvel's Endgame Discovery's finale was a much needed remedy. Also, after having been absent for a year I hope my drive to write stays for a little longer._

* * *

**Falling**

Pain. His entire world is made of it. It spreads like poison from his chest and in some corner of his mind, one that has not yet become delirious because of it, he wonders how he was able to remain conscious so far.

Distantly, he is aware of Tilly apologising and he'd like to ask her what for. As if any of this was her fault, really. But he doesn't find the strength to argue. His heart is racing, every breath hurts. He can feel himself slip away and the sensation is frightening.

The sterile white headlights in sickbay are melting into one another as she leaves, the groans from patients and orders from medical staff blending together - into a concoction of light and sound that makes little sense to him, and maybe this is it. Maybe this is how he's going to die.  
It's the second time, technically, he knows but he's never really counted the first one as he doesn't even remember it.

He's a scientist and for long he's thought nothing of those stories that the dying sometimes see a radiant white glow, or how those they love come to guard them on their way to whatever death holds in store. But Hugh has long ago explained to him that a failing brain can indeed be prone to conjuring images like that and so, for just a second, he isn't even surprised at all to see his silhouette appear in front of him.

It seems like a shadow at first, barely distinguishable from the ceiling light that still somehow manages to be blinding, and instinctively his eyes try to get him into focus.

_Paul._

It's his voice. He'd recognise it anywhere. Even as he feels like his torso is on fire there is not a single doubt in his head.

_Hi. _

Now he frowns, turning towards the figure although this small motoric act alone sends a fresh wave of pain through his system. His name tumbles from his lips as he takes him in.

Hugh is tentative at first, as if he doesn't quite know how to enter Paul's personal space after they have lived with such a distance between them for weeks now. His eyes flick over a damaged chest and too much blood and in that moment he can see the tremble in Hugh's stance.

He is scared.

Hugh has always been awful at concealing worry from his partner, and Paul recognises the fear in his face instantly. It makes him want to get up, to reach out – figment of his dying mind or not, he wants to be close to him. Comfort him. Even if Paul himself is the one with his life on the line.

But his muscles have already stopped obeying him, and so he just takes it all in and tries to stay awake, watches as the doctor in Hugh takes control and starts scanning. Because if this is what his brain does to make dying easier on him he will cling to it for as long as he can.

The tricorder makes quick work of assessing his condition and it doesn't come as any kind of news when the result says that his injuries are severe. He thinks the pain is a pretty good giveaway of that already, and that his brain shouldn't have bothered relaying the information to him. The words that follow however send him into a kind of panic that he didn't think he could feel in this state.

_I'm gonna induce coma._

No.

No. No. No.

He wants to protest, wants to get away as the vision of Hugh turns to him with the anaesthetic. Coma means shutting down, it means silence and not feeling. He'd rather take the pain in his chest tenfold than have his mind stop hallucinating him. And so he tries to fight, to will his neurosystem to continue whatever it is doing to him.

Until he feels the hypo against his neck, and Hugh implores him to listen.

He stops. This is too real.

Everything feels so distant, everything save the pain, but even though his nerves are misfiring Paul recognises the tone in Hugh's voice with a clarity he would have believed was impossible in this situation.

This is no hallucination.

But if _he_ is here...

In his clouded mind jumbled thoughts begin to chase each other, giving him a short spike of adrenaline that won't last long with the narcotics entering his bloodstream.

If this is truly _him_...

He wants to ask why. Why does he sacrifice himself as well, making his way into a future far beyond the reach of those they leave behind? Why didn't he stay on the Enterprise?

If he hadn't been able to speak before, however, it was infinitely harder now.

Something tugs at his chest, and a pitiful whimper catches in his throat. Instantly Hugh reassures him that he's doing fine, but the quiver in his voice belies how he, himself, is breaking inside.

As the drugs start their work on his system, slowly, the searing pain in Paul's torso subsides - his breathing evening out albeit he wills it not to. His vision is blurring around the edges, Hugh's words now reaching him as if through cotton.

_You're my home._

It's all he can hear. Gone is the thrum of machines and the thunder of battle. There is not a single sound other than this in his world any more.

_So I came back._

He tells him to go to sleep now and the idea suddenly seems so incredibly alluring. Paul is falling, he cannot fight it any longer. Hugh's hands are in his hair and on his neck, like an anchor to remind him to come back when this is all over.

_You let me take care of you. _

He always would.

His heart-beat slows.

_I'm your family. _

His sight fails him.

_Wherever we go from here-_

At last, darkness claims him. But he isn't scared. Not anymore.

_We go together._

The last thing he feels is Hugh's lips on his forehead. A feather-light kiss.

A promise.

A second chance.

And Paul will take him up on it.


End file.
